


Of Lost Memories and Forget-Me-Nots

by bellejungkook



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Amnesia, Angst, Chef Seokmin, Crowned prince Mingyu, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Guard Dino, Guard Jeonghan, Guard Jisoo, Guard Seungcheol, Guard Soonyoung, Guard Wonwoo, Kim Mingyu-centric, M/M, Memory Loss, Musician Woozi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prince Junhui, Prince Mingyu, Servant Hansol, Servant Minghao, Servant Seokmin, Servant Seungkwan, Strangers to Friends, poor Mingyu, prince AU, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-05 11:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12188880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellejungkook/pseuds/bellejungkook
Summary: Crown prince Kim Mingyu lives surrounded by his friends, a promising inventor and future king. He's a happy child, light of his country and, despite his tendency for clumsiness and disinterest in fighting, the pride of the King and Queen. That is, until one night in August when he vanishes without a trace.Six years later, the world of humble inventor's son Kim Mingyu is thrown upside down when he's ordered to present himself at the palace for the anniversary of the missing prince. There, he enters a whole new world, one he finds he doesn't really want to leave.But something sinister is going on, with the prince still missing and mutterings of an imminent attack spreading around the palace, and Mingyu soon realises he's at the very centre of it.And what's with half the staff insisting he feels familiar?





	Of Lost Memories and Forget-Me-Nots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece of music really inspired this chapter, so I recommend listening while you read if you can x [ "Love Is Here" - Tracey Chattaway](https://youtu.be/NyxKftJszJA)  
> 

August 13th –

Dusk began to drape itself over the palace, slow and languid as the heat of the day finally subsided.

The only sound was the faint whisper of Mingyu’s boots against the grass. He crept across the grounds with a purpose, dark cloak wrapped firmly around himself, despite it being nowhere near cold enough for the use of one. If anyone had looked out of a window, he would’ve been nothing more than a servant on his way to the kitchens, a stable hand heading for a late check of the horses.

That was the hope anyway.

Mingyu was alert, probably more so than anyone in the castle would’ve imagined him capable of, eyes focused on his path and the position of the guards and the shifting patterns of the shadows. He employed every trick and technique he knew, taught in the many lessons he’d been forced to attend by his father, in the effort to keep his feet firmly below him where they belonged as he rounded the castle’s outer walls.

He hated to admit the lessons were coming into use, having resented them from the minute they had first been proposed.

During a training session many years ago, after a sudden growth spurt that wreaked havoc on his balance, 8 year old Mingyu had fallen over his own feet and nearly taken Kwon Soonyoung, his training partner at the time, out with his sword. Soonyoung had just laughed after dodging the unwieldy swipe, finding the situation hilarious. However his father General Kwon, the head guard and training instructor himself, didn’t quite see it in the same way.

And so Mingyu was sent to learn how to remain on two feet at all times for an hour every week. His cousin, Prince Junhui, had fallen off his chair laughing when he found out.

None of the other royal children had to go to those special lessons, so Mingyu was adamant that it was unnecessary-- _“I’m a prince. I know how not to fall over” --_ but the king had insisted.

His instructors would have marvelled at the _poise and stability_ he was showing now, four years on as he snuck past the west wing of the palace unseen. Not that they would ever know about it.

A guard patrolling the wall came into sight and Mingyu ducked into a small alcove carved into the wall. A window, high above where he was hidden, was open to the approaching evening air. He glanced up in wonder as it began to glow where the sun’s remaining light bled into the glass, turning a deep amber and shining as if it was forged from molten metal.

This, and the delight at the idea of keeping his little escapade a secret from everyone drew the corners of his mouth into a giddy smile.

The plan was to be back in his room before dawn, so they wouldn’t even know he’d gone anywhere. He would sit at breakfast the next day and go to lessons and see his mother and father and none of them would know he’d been walking around after curfew, that he’d snuck away from his new guard.

Or even if they did know, if the guard woke up from his very well-timed nap outside Mingyu’s door and told them. It wouldn’t matter, because by then he’d be far enough away that a lecture would have to wait until he returned. The deception was exciting and he was eager to move, to feel free for once, no matter the consequences.

As he crouched under the rough stones that had enclosed him his whole life, he heard the beginning notes of a piano piece floating through the opening in the window. It coasted upon a faint breeze, stirring the leaves of the trees lining the palace boundary.

Mingyu imagined it was Jihoon proving to his music teacher that he could already play a hard piece on the piano. Or maybe he was attempting to teach Junhui something other than clumsy nursery rhymes. Mingyu thought back to the times he’d sat in on their practice, awestruck by the magic that Jihoon could create and amused by the… less magical attempts from his cousin.

He snorted softly. This music was probably not Junhui’s doing.

Either way though, he took comfort in the familiar sound, letting each note settle upon his shoulders, around his throat where he could feel his own pulse drumming nervously.

For a second, he let himself slip away into the music, as he had during those practices not so long ago.

Then the guard upon the wall, a mere silhouette against the dying sun, moved far enough out of sight and the coast was clear.

Mingyu took a deep breath, gathering his attention back up with a light tap to the centre of his forehead and a whispered, _“Focus”,_ before stepping out again into the fading light.

He couldn’t afford to lose his concentration now, because stumbling right by the west wing of the castle, the _royal wing,_ would cause noise that would get him caught. It had taken him so long to ditch his new guard, giving him the run around all day and then waiting and waiting and hoping that he would fall asleep, that being found out so close to his goal would just be embarrassing.

Kang had been frustrating from the start.

He hovered uncomfortably close everywhere Mingyu went, even going as far as following him to his lessons, where every second was already supervised --lest he accidentally try to take someone else out during sword training or, heaven-forbid, fall asleep during literature.

The guard seemed determined to carry out his duty to the royals who had appointed him, even though it was only a temporary job, which Mingyu could understand but... still, he kept his fingers crossed that his usual Personal guard, Wonwoo, would be better soon.

His friend’s absence was noticeable in the beginning, a cold feeling to Mingyu’s right where Wonwoo would usually stand; a sense of quiet where usually there would have been endless chatter. Well… endless chatter from Mingyu anyway.

However, it was even more noticeable now as he finally rounded the west wing, passing by the Royal Library and kitchen windows on tip toes. The barracks came into sight. A small flicker of orange from the torch beside the door was nearly the only light left as dusk finally gave way to night.

The plan was to get away from his guard, but Mingyu hadn’t considered just how alone he’d truly be outside the safety of his room. Wonwoo would never have let him be alone, not like this.

It took considerable effort to bury the tiny thread of fear that curled up his chest.

The healers had said it was only a minor ailment, a sprained ankle from a tumble Wonwoo took during training. He was to rest for a week at least, and so was sent home to be cared for by his parents in the village just beyond the palace gates.

Mingyu didn’t really understand what a sprained ankle was, being only 13 and having more of a track record for accidentally almost injuring other people than himself, so vivid images of his friend’s foot contorted and bloody prompted him to plead to be allowed to visit.

But when he showed up at the Jeon household, Wonwoo merely laughed quietly at his concern. He showed off his bandaged ankle --thankfully facing the way it was meant to-- before ruffling Mingyu’s hair (to his disgust) and reassuring him he’d be back in a few days.

“The new guard won’t be so bad. You won’t even realise I’m not there.”

“But I will because he’s not you. Who else will… will… let me eat dessert at three in the morning?”

“That’s the only thing you like me for?”

“Well- I just… You’ll come back right hyung?”

“I’ll always come back you big idiot. Not only is it my job, but it seems like you wouldn’t survive long without your dessert anyway.”

Mingyu had huffed at that then.

 

But as a few days turned into a week, and then more, Wonwoo hadn’t reappeared and Kang’s constant vigilance became suffocating.

 

So Mingyu had decided to take matters into his own hands.

 

Everything was perfect: before dinner the previous day, he’d overheard Seungcheol moaning to Jeonghan about breaking the barracks clock.

“General Kwon will have my head if he can’t schedule the guard rotation accurately, and then I’ll be too dead to become his successor.”

Mingyu had always been better at fixing than fighting, to his father’s dismay, so he’d decided this would be the perfect opportunity to get out of the castle. Not only would he be able to help Seungcheol get promoted, but the barracks were close enough that he wouldn’t be in any danger. And they were the barracks, where most of the castle’s defence ate and slept. Literally the safest place he could possibly be, so he could finally leave Kang behind.

And the next morning, like it was meant to be, Mingyu had heard a rumour. As he kept Hansol and Seokmin company in the kitchens, hiding from overbearing guards at the same time, one of the cooks let slip that he’d heard Kang was impartial to a bit of wine every so often.

So, naturally, as they retired from dinner that evening, he’d suggested the guard call up a bottle from the kitchens to ease his tired muscles; after all, it was such hard work guarding the Crown Prince, he deserved a treat.

Mingyu had never tried wine. Apparently being the heir to the throne didn’t mean he could get around his parents’ rules, as much as he had attempted to in the past. He couldn’t even convince Wonwoo to sneak him some, which was the worst betrayal. But he had seen its effects in the glassy look his father got in his eyes after a toast or in the roaring laughter from a red-faced guard which was still audible even at the top of one of the towers.

In the servant who had stolen a bottle from the kitchens and fallen off the outer wall.

It was destructive and tempting and it seemed like Kang wasn’t as professional at his job as he appeared to be.

He fell asleep sat at his post outside of Mingyu’s door sometime after they from dinner.

Mingyu had still been able to hear Kang’s faint snores through the door as he’d slipped out of his dinner shirt and into a stable boy uniform pulled from the spares basket in the laundry room.

It was a snug fit, the faded beige breeches a few inches too short and the stained shirt a little tight around the shoulders, but, since Mingyu was much taller than most of the children his age, it couldn’t be helped. He briefly glanced in the mirror, which only led to him stifling a snort, and then shrugged on his plainest cloak, folding the dark brown hood over his face to carefully obscure his features from sight. Fishing a spare cog out of his tool box just in case and stowing it in his cloak, he pulled on his boots and moved over to the window.

The castle was several hundred years old, Mingyu knew that. But it had still taken him by surprise when the window caught on the latch as he tried to push it open. It made a painful screech of protest that pulled at his nerves like a trigger wire and he stilled, suddenly very aware of his thundering heartbeat and the fact that his room carried echoes better than he’d anticipated.

But Kang hadn’t stirred. Loosing a quiet sigh, Mingyu had pushed the window all the way open and climbed out over the sill, vowing to never ever drink that much when he was older. His feet swung in the open air for a moment, the ground below swaying, before one foot found purchase on the flowered trellis his mother had insisted on covering the walls of the royal wing with. When he was confident the wood would carry his weight, he began to climb down and away from his beautiful prison.

With his back to the sky, Mingyu had mentally crossed his fingers that the guards were changing over. He’d spent a lot of time in the barracks getting advice from Jisoo, or when he wasn’t in lessons, sparring with Soonyoung, Seungcheol and a just starting out Chan, or even playing cards with Jeonghan (for a 14-year-old, the boy was already far too good at card games), so by now the guard rotation was a familiar routine.

But, while Kang had dozed off surprisingly fast, the wait had still taken longer than expected, so Mingyu could only hope his luck would hold out long enough for him to reach the ground without being spotted. That the broken clock would throw the schedule off even if only for a few minutes, as Seungcheol had thought it might. He didn’t think he’d be able to pass off as one of his mother’s precious flowers if he was spotted.

Thankfully though, it was less than a minute before he reached the last rung, his height being an advantage for once, and dropped down onto the grass undetected, doing his best to avoid a cluster of flowers that had taken to the grass at the foot of the wall.

They’d been foreign imports, he’d remembered, gifts from travellers that had found home in the palace soil and flourished. Vibrant pink Zinnia flowers, and softer blue toned Forget-Me-Nots that just grew and grew, refusing to let up even when the gardener had accidentally dropped his shears directly on top of them. Mingyu secretly loved the persistent little flowers, so stopped for a moment to admire them.

Then he’d set off to seek out a broken clock.

Which was how he found himself crouched behind a bush, trying to calculate how far the distance to the barracks was. He wished he’d had the sense to bring a lantern as the sun finally gave way to the moon. Though he knew it would be no help in the stealth area, he still wished for the comfort. All of the creatures from myths and stories he’d been told as a child, the monsters in the dark he’d been adamant he didn’t believe in anymore, rose up at once. They darted in and out of his peripheral vision like ghosts, casting a chill down his spine.

Mingyu pulled his cloak around tighter to ward off the cold.

He wanted to believe it was for that anyway, but it was hard when the grass around him was still sun scorched from the heatwave that had fallen across the land a few days earlier.

 _Don’t be so silly. You’re 13. You cannot be afraid of the dark._ He was safe within the castle walls, the monsters merely his imagination stitching shadows together, forming things that would scare him into going back. He wasn’t about to let them take control. He’d come such a long way, and the barracks weren’t _that_ far away anyway. Just a few more minutes and he’d be safe and warm and laughing with his friends. He let the thought settle on his shoulders, warmth radiating down into his legs. He moved to stand.

 

That’s when something crashed beyond the outer wall, a loud sound, only barely muffled by the thick stones.

Every one of Mingyu’s muscles seized up in sudden fright.

 _A tree branch. A rock falling down the ravine._ He would’ve even taken shadow monsters at that moment.

But the voices that followed the noise felled his hopes in an instant.

They were indistinguishable but getting clearer as every second went by, calling out what sounded like instructions across the night air. Mingyu reached into his cloak and clasped the cog nestled there tightly in his hand. The spokes of the little copper wheel dug into his palm firmly, resolute and unyielding in his grasp as the need to reach the barracks filled him faster than before. Someone was coming, and they weren’t coming through the front gates, so they weren’t someone welcome.

There were no alarmed shouts from the walls as there should have been with such a noise being made, and… and now that he thought about it, Mingyu had never seen the guard on the wall return, nor had anyone replaced him as they should have. He’d assumed his luck had held but now he realised that had been wishful thinking. He was a fool for believing that he wouldn’t have been noticed sneaking around so close to where the Royal Guard was stationed in its entirety. _Idiot._

The guard on the wall was gone.

Whoever the voices belonged to, they had suddenly rendered Mingyu even more alone than he’d thought. And he felt the realisation flash through him like the crack of a whip as the first dark figure appeared over the parapet.

_The barracks._

With no shout from the wall, the guards in the barracks would have no idea that there were intruders. At this time of night, only a few within would be ready for action. There had never been many threats at night, as any attempts to get past the guards at the main gate had always proven to be useless. The ground dropped down sharply on the west side of the palace to meet the river below, and there was nothing but bare fields immediately surrounding the wall in the remaining directions; any attackers would be immediately spotted or would tumble to their death down the ravine. Therefore, there’d never been a reason to keep the whole force up at all hours of the day, so the king had taken the opportunity to cut back a little where he saw it.

But now, somehow, these strangers had made it over. Mingyu cursed his father in his head with the one bad word he knew, the one Seungcheol had accidentally let slip months ago.

 _Seungcheol…_ Though he didn’t know what the intruders wanted, Mingyu knew he needed to get to the barracks and tell the guards.

And soon. But the barracks were still a way away from where Mingyu was hidden, the distance feeling much further now than it had before.

The first figure was followed by more, until at least 8, if not more, were gathered between the parapets. A ladder was thrown over the side, unfurling down the outer wall and coming to rest just above the lawn. The perfect length. _They did their research._ The strangers began to scale down the stone.

Mingyu ducked back into the shadows of the bush, his view of the building, the one that housed his friends, suddenly diminished to whatever gaps he could find between the leaves. His heart shivered in his ribcage, a weak flutter of fear rising up his throat, and he begged his mind to think of something, gripping his dark hair tight as if it would help ideas enter his head.

But his pleading only scattered his thoughts more. _What will happen if I don’t make it?_ Should he make a run for the barracks and potentially run straight before the figures if he wasn’t fast enough? Though his legs were long, they were gangly, too unused to sprinting to be of any advantage. So, should he go on? Continue along the base of the palace wall, and alert the guards at the front gates? _No, too far. Too long._ Going backwards to the library, or even kitchen was a possibility, but he struck it immediately from his mind. No, the barracks was his best bet, they would know what to do. _Right?_ Besides, Hansol and Seokmin might be in the kitchens still, despite the late hour, and, though they would be braver than he, Mingyu didn’t want any more of his friends in danger.

He found himself wishing again for Wonwoo’s steady presence at his side, his quiet guidance. Mingyu’s fear at that moment was colossal, bigger even than his worries about the dark. What would happen if he failed? What would the strangers do? Why were they here?

 _No, it doesn’t matter._ Wonwoo wasn’t there to advise, but the thought of him helped. His friends, his family, were still relying on him to act, so Mingyu made his choice. _Breathe, it’s okay._ It was not okay but he needed to believe it. Had to. _It’s okay, this is just… like a problem to solve. Think of the barrack’s clock. You wanted to fix that, and how different is this? Fix this. You can do it._

He got to his feet, ready to run.

But…

His chance was gone.

The figures did not hesitate as one by one their feet touched the grass at the base of the wall.

They headed straight for the barracks in a line, staying low and looking for all the world like the ghosts in the stories he’d been told, only this time, very real. Their dark hoods were painted in a faint orange as they drew nearer to the light spilling from the building’s windows. Light that splashed across something silver and shining. _A dagger?_ They were armed.

It was then that Mingyu realised it was too late to warn the guards in advance. Too late to warn his friends that someone was targeting the palace, because they _were_ the target. He wouldn’t make it in time. The figures had reached the barracks, circling like predators deciding on the best way to strike their prey. Perhaps scouting for the best entrance? _But to do… what?_

He’d waited too long. His options were running out, trickling faster and faster through his fingers with every moment he allowed his fear to grip him.

He had to do something.

An attack on the barracks--because that’s what he presumed this was, what else could it be?--would wipe out half of their defence, not to mention his friends within, and all those in the palace who would be left defenceless if the Royal Guard fell.

He had to… something.

Anything.

_Focus._

And then--finally--the last piece Mingyu needed to fix the problem slipped into place, his mind tentatively offering up the solution like it was one of the puzzles he usually enjoyed solving.

All that was left to do was to steal the element of surprise the only way he knew how. What did Wonwoo always make fun of him for?

Noise.

He would run, as fast as his untrained legs could go, as far as possible. Then he would make sure the guards heard his yell in replacement for the one they should have heard so much earlier.

In replacement for the guard Mingyu should have noticed was missing.

The hooded figures slunk around the back of the building for a moment. _Definitely looking the best way in._

This time, he did not hesitate to get up and start running. Gone was the careful step he had been trained to use. His muscles were too soaked in desperation to remember the lessons that had been drilled into them, as images of blood and unseeing eyes burned against the forefront of his mind. The barracks swayed in his vision, rocking back and forth in time to his now heavy footfalls, but he kept his eyes ahead. Each step was taking him further from the safety of the shadows, but closer to the people he knew, those he needed to protect. Just as they had always protected him. Their Crown Prince. His friends.

He thought of Seungcheol, who was bound to be a great head guard one day. Of Jeonghan, who always listened when Mingyu needed to complain about being teased by his cousin, and who taught impressive card tricks in his spare time. Jisoo, who was secretly teaching him complex languages that tasted strange and unfamiliar, and yet wholly beautiful on his tongue, and Soonyoung, trying in vain to coax him away from gears and tools and into sword fighting--already a prodigy swordsman at 14. Chan who was so determined to be a guard like the older boys. He thought of Hansol, with calming words and secrets hidden carefully behind a smile like a blazing flame, and Seokmin, with his undeniable talent in making some of the best desserts Mingyu had ever eaten. Junhui, his teasing all part of the reason why he was the best cousin ever, who had brought Minghao into the palace, beginning as a manservant, but becoming so beloved he was practically a brother now. And what would Mingyu have done without Jihoon to teach him that music was more than a hesitant nursery rhyme thrown onto piano keys to impress teachers. Even Seungkwan, a new servant, just in from a neighbouring island who Mingyu hadn’t known for very long, had settled comfortably in his heart with his constant kind words and laughter.

He had to help. For them. Just as they had always helped him.

Legs burning as the distance closed up beneath his aching feet, he nearly cried out in relief then and there as the wooden door neared. Maybe he could make it inside without being seen after all.

Mingyu was inches away from the door handle, arm outstretched and a yell building in the back of his throat, when a hand grasped the back of his collar and wrenched him backwards.

The sudden loss of momentum pulled his shirt collar tightly against his windpipe, eliciting a strangled yelp from him rather than the cry he had been hoping for. This then turned into severe gagging as the fabric continued to constrict around his throat, refusing to relent even as his hands reached up to try and pry the other person’s hand off him. Somewhere along the way, he felt the little cog slip from his cloak pocket, but it was the least of his concerns. Black spots crowded the corners of the world for one long, terrifying moment.

Then the hand let go of Mingyu’s collar. He was dropped unceremoniously to the floor, breath returned but burning his throat without remorse. His head bounced against the ground with a dull thud he knew he would feel the next day. As the darkness receded from his eyes, he looked up at the shadowed faces of the strangers he hadn’t managed to avoid after all.

They stood over him, staring down at their catch with matching frowns.

“It’s just a kid.” One spoke, his words barely disturbing the air. Mingyu froze, unable to move for the legs caging him in, and unwilling to anyway, as the wind had been knocked out of him completely and his head shrieked.

“Doesn’t matter, he saw us.” Whoever spoke then had few qualms about being quiet. She scoffed at the first man, who merely sighed.

“That doesn’t mean we have to-“

“You’re going to be doing that to a lot more people tonight, why are you so fussed now?” The woman huffed as no response came. “Look, we’re running out of time, so if you won’t do it now, we’ll do it afterwards. We can’t exactly have him tattling to his mother now, can we?”

The last sentence was definitely directed at Mingyu, like they required a response out of him. But he didn’t really hear it, or their responses to his lack of one, for his mind had latched onto one single word within the woman’s. _Mother…_ They hadn’t said father, which would’ve been the obvious choice given the high status he had. Most people thought Mingyu ran to his father about everything. Barely anyone messed around with him when they found out who he was, for fear of being _tattled_ on.

A thought danced across the sky before him, almost tangible like faint threads of mist.

_They don’t know who I am._

He had forgotten it wasn’t his own clothes he wore and, to these intruders, he would look like nothing more than a simple stable hand.

 

Which meant that he held no worth to them.

 

His breath rushed back to him in a wavering inhale.

No more waiting. He’d done enough of that tonight.

Mingyu screamed before they could move to shut him up, his bruised throat only aiding the volume of the cry. The sound echoed, and was added to as the barracks finally roared into life.

He’d done it. He-

Something solid slammed into the side of his head the next instant, and everything fragmented, the scream dying on his lips. Probably the hilt of the dagger the woman was carrying, his scrambled mind provided helpfully before folding in on itself.

It was like he was sinking down to the depths of a river, his limbs disconnecting from the directions he wanted to give them and slowly losing all feeling. The intruders’ voices were muffled now, sounding a long way away. He thought he heard a, “Now he’s done it.”

Or maybe, “We have to run. Now.”

“Bring the boy.”

He didn’t pay much attention to any of it, as the sound of roaring water filled his ears. It nearly drowned out the feeling of being dragged, and then lifted, by cold hands. Now he really was floating.

His head didn’t hurt anymore.

Some vague, tiny part of Mingyu that hadn’t gone completely numb tried fighting back, kicking and writhing, trying to free the rest of his totally unresponsive body, recognising the intentions of those who held him. His height finally came into its own, a long last, and the vague feeling of his foot connecting with someone’s jaw sparked a small sense of satisfaction.

But eventually, his struggling became less and the satisfaction he’d felt was buried. The strangers began to move, back towards the wall, Mingyu slung between several pairs of hands, his arms and legs hanging limp. He was too tired to count them, or to fight back anymore as wave of emptiness enclosed him.

He’d done it. He’d helped…

The second to last thing he saw was the barracks door crashing open and half the guard streaming out into the night, some with their swords out, but the majority were holding small daggers, or even the odd candle stick, looking dazed and half asleep. They paused for only a moment before grasping the situation and beginning to race after the intruders. And Mingyu. Not that they would know it was him.

His friends would be in that crowd somewhere. Racing into more danger sure, but awake. _Safe._

He’d helped them. _I did it._ Now he could rest.

Just for a little while.

The last thing he heard was a yell that sounded something like the head guard, or one of his friends, or maybe it was Mingyu? But he didn’t really know, or mind, anymore, his head swimming too much for idle thought to break through the current.

His head lolled backwards, and the light of the stars above danced.

And that’s when he thought of Wonwoo. His best friend. He really should’ve been there so they could’ve admired them together. That’s what they always did on clear nights, peering out of Mingyu’s bedroom window at the world beyond--ever since he’d broken down the quiet guard’s cool exterior and found a friend underneath.

The last thing he saw was the sky, those same stars looking on sadly.

He smiled back.

Then, Mingyu’s eyes slid shut and he forgot everything.

Even the little cog lying in the grass, sparking gold in the reflected torchlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two: Six Years Later  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Hello! You made it aha.  
> Okay, so this is my first big story ever. In fact, it's probably one of the longest things I've ever written, and definitely the longest I've ever stuck with a story (this took nearly two months to write as I've had horrible writers block all over the summer). It's also my first Seventeen fanfiction, so I'm really nervous about characterisation, but we all have to start somewhere right? I'm aware it's a bit all over the place at points, but this was originally used as something to just keep me writing, it wasn't ever meant to be something I felt so proud of aaaah. But hey, I feel like I'm in my stride now so hopefully the next chapters will be better!!  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, even if it was a huge huge mess ^^ The next chapter probably won't be as long, but saying that, I didn't think this one would be either, so who knows.  
> Also, this hasn't been beta-read, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know and I'll fix them <3  
> Thank you for reading, have a wonderful day/night x
> 
> (Also also, I know Jun can play the piano, and very well actually if the going seventeen and instagram videos are anything to go by, but it was necessary that at the moment he cant ^-^ )


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